


Trials And Tribulations Of A Barkeep

by daffodil_daisy



Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: Background Relationships, F/F, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 12:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21814405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daffodil_daisy/pseuds/daffodil_daisy
Summary: Nine Ball just wants to run a nice billiards bar. An unexpected amount comes with that.
Relationships: Lou Miller/Nine Ball/Debbie Ocean, Nine Ball/Tammy (Ocean's)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Trials And Tribulations Of A Barkeep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ariestess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariestess/gifts).

> This is my first Yuletide. Happy holidays, ariestess!

Nine Ball keeps the contact information of all the women she heisted with. Technically speaking she doesn’t have it on hand, because there are connections that must never be made, but she knows where to find the files she didn’t keep. It’s something she learned from Lou and her old fashioned hardcopy files: life is an unending series of wild events, and the more people you know the more seemingly out of control aspects you can easily delegate and manage. Nine Ball’s generally used to relying on herself. Well, and Veronica occasionally, though she tries to keep her out of the black hat shit. It’ll be easier now that her main source of income is about to be her billiards bar. Those women, though, defy the expectations set by other jobs. She keeps their contact info because unlike everyone else in the criminal world, they don’t suck.

Of all the crew, Nine Ball wouldn’t have guessed Tammy to be the first she’d meet up with again. A quick assumption would have been Constance, who’s just cool and relatable in a way none of the others are. Nine Ball’s following her Youtube vlog, knows she’s in the process of buying a loft. She doesn’t comment though, and the first contact ends up being Nine Ball texting Tammy, asking if she can get a hold of furniture. Turns out setting up a bar is expensive. Sure, she’s got thirty eight million dollars, but a) it’s super suspicious to keep buying things she shouldn’t be able to afford from her taxable bank account and b) almost all of it is a nest egg for Veronica. She’s not going to struggle like Nine Ball did. 

Tammy calls back rather than text. She leaves an answering machine message, furthermore showing the generational divide. “I’m in the market of _everything_. Just gimme a week to find the right truck.”

Meeting her should be a quick affair. In and out, cash and goods exchanged. What Nine Ball wasn’t accounting for is the cable knit sweater Tammy’s wearing when she comes in, directing two moving men she doesn’t bother to introduce. Weird or not, WASPs are a bulletproof kink of hers. There’s a good amount to say about tainting innocence, about being someone’s snake in the garden. There’s more to say about melting the uptight micromanaging exterior and getting to the liquid yearning centre.

As Veronica has been known to sarcastically remark, Nine Ball is not subtle with her crushes. By the time the men Nine Ball have mentally dubbed as Eddie and Cupcake depart, leaving Nine Ball and Tammy slicing thick layers of wrapped plastic off of the many pieces, Nine Ball has eyed her about two hundred times. If Tammy’s not feeling oggled she has the situational awareness of a gnat, and Nine Ball’s got a cool thirty eight million saying she’s smarter than that.

“You want to stay for a minute?” 

“I’m not good at pool.”

It’s not a no. The easy route would be offering to teach her, drag out the will-they-won’t-they slightly manipulative touching until the sexual tension gets too high and something breaks. It’s too ambiguous. Nine Ball likes definitive choices. She wants the yeses or no’s. To be cliche, ones or zeros. “I bet you’re good at other things. Know I am.”

Tammy frowns, tone changing. “You know I have children.”

It’s pretty fucking telling that she doesn’t mention her husband, only the possibility of Nine Ball being a homewrecker. “Yeah, and I have a sister I take care of. But there’re no dependents in this room, are there? So show me what you’re good at.”

And there it is, drifting to the floor: the jostled leaf from the tree of knowledge. Tammy steps in close, lips nearly touching, and Nine Ball’s hands naturally fall to her waist. Almost all their clothes stay on. She likes Tammy’s textured white knit sweater and tight red skirt, hints of gold jewelry showing on wrist and finger and neck. She’s fairly certain she’s an aesthetic outlier for Tammy, too, with crop top under overalls and criss-cross wrapped locs. Tammy unbuckles her straps and the bib falls down, the weight of the denim making the whole article sag down. It’s a simple dip of the hand that has Tammy’s slender fingers gliding over her belly, then her mound, then on her sex. Her labia part with Tammy’s insistence, and Nine Ball drops her head to the soft fabric of Tammy’s shoulder. What Tammy’s good at, evidently, is fingering.

After a few minutes of Tammy pumping her pussy, making her shudder, Nine Ball struggles to focus. She knows she needs to get Tammy off first. She’s useless after an orgasm, can’t attend to other people to save her life. She slides her hands to Tammy’s ass and pulls with her fingertips until all the fabric is gathered beneath her knuckles. Nine Ball rucks up the twill even higher, exposing Tammy’s ass to the room. It’s the work of seconds to get into Tammy’s panties, fingers pushing past the edge of the leg holes and onto her pussy. Nine Ball gets the backside of her third row of knuckles on Tammy’s clit and goes wild, waving as fast as she can. It has great effect on Tammy. Her fingers still inside Nine Ball’s pussy, though she’s nice enough to not withdraw them. 

As consumerist as Tammy is, aware of equal exchange even if it doesn’t often interest her, it doesn’t surprise Nine Ball that the moment she’s done pulling the orgasm from Tammy, Tammy immediately begins to settle the bill. She resumes fucking her fingers up into Nine Ball, this time with such enthusiasm Nine Ball can feel it throughout her whole body. Any peripheral colour Nine Ball was getting vanishes as her eyelids clench shut. Her pussy spasms on Tammy’s capable fingers, and she holds her breath as she rides out the orgasm. 

Tammy doesn't stay much longer. She's a mother of three with a strong career in fencing, there's always someone who needs something from her. Nine Ball watches and memorises the sight of Tammy McMillan adjusting sopping wet panties back over her used pussy, and tugging her skirt back down to hide the whole mess. The twill is wrinkled from its time crumpled. The obvious effect she's had on Tammy is a rush. It's a yes or no answer to the question of did she deploy her desire properly.

With Nine ball’s fully furnished--apart from the custom neon lights she’s ordering, stylising her bar’s name--new concerns take precedence. Such as how is she going to attract decent patrons, or at least minimize assholes? If the world was an intelligent place Nine ball’s would be a smoking bar. Nine Ball has never been much of a patriot, and she thinks it’s fair to say the United States has never been known as intelligent, certainly not as much so as Amsterdam. Unfortunately that leaves her with alcohol as the only source of intoxication-induced all night patrons. Thing is, most drunk people suck. They puke, they fight, they damage property. Not to mention they lose morals, including the one that says it’s good to tip their waitress. Nine Ball really doesn’t want the unwashed masses to get hammered in her bar. And she's not alone in the feeling. Know who else doesn’t appreciate drunken idiots? Lou. Sure she could Google it, but it just seems better to text to ask **got any not-getting-drunk tips for customers?**

The response comes within ten minutes of Nine Ball sending it. **I'll be over at 6pm tomorrow. I'll bring dinner.**

Nine Ball laughs reading the text. Of course Lou knows where Nine ball's located without asking. Of course she's assuming others will fit her schedule. And of course she's bringing food. Lou’s love language is food and drink. For the three weeks of set up, Nine Ball was one of many to occasionally crash at heist headquarters. She had plenty of time to see Lou and Debbie handfeeding each other breakfast sweets. Lou kept her fed like a mama duck through all her long running hack sessions. And the people Lou doesn’t respect get watered down alcohol and poisoned soup.

It is equally unsurprising that when Lou shows up, precisely at six because punctuality is important to some subsets of the criminal element, Debbie is with her. As far as Nine Ball knows, they’re rarely apart. 

“So you’re trying to decide how drunk you’ll let your customers get,” Lou says over bowls of pho.

“Wish I could just give em all blunts, but I can’t.” Nine Ball’s never been a dealer and she never will be a dealer. Stereotypes are bullshit. 

“Move to Colorado? Or Canada?” Debbie suggests. Sometimes the woman really pisses Nine Ball off for how clueless she is. This, ‘what’s a footprint’, ‘what do your parents do’. Honestly.

“Got family here.”

One thing that can be said for Debbie Ocean, however, is that she’s decent at course correcting when she becomes aware she’s fucked up. Maybe it came from mentally running the same heist for five years. Maybe it was a skill she had before that. The cause doesn’t matter to Nine Ball as much as the ability. In this case Debbie’s nodding her head as she dips her spoon into the broth. “Right, right.”

“Well, my strategy has always been about a fifth water to four fifths booze. That’s about three fingers down from the top, if you’ve got a bottle in mind.”

“Oh yeah?”

“It’ll still taste sharp enough, but having a free bottles worth every time you buy four starts to add up over the weeks and months. And it certainly helps with patrons not blowing up and declaring war over dumb shit.”

As always, Lou’s food tastes like she made it with genuine care. Nine Ball’s had a crush on her for over a month now because of her cooking. Lou is a cool woman, because she knew and didn’t let it affect anything. They had plenty of moments alone, after clearing the air, and never did Lou let it get awkward. Nor does she now, when Debbie goes off to the washroom--plumbing had already been roughed in, but nothing installed or designed, Nine Ball had a strangely fun time decorating--and it’s just the two of them over empty bowls.

“Looking nice in here,” Lou says jutting her chin out to gesture to the room. Nine Ball would absolutely still lick down her sharp jawline, but she respects Lou’s reasons for her no.

“Thanks. Tammy really came through with the options.”

Lou looks at her askance. “Tammy McMillan?”

“Know another fence named Tammy?” Nine Ball snorts at her own retort. If anyone would know multiple fences named Tammy it would be Lou. She has networking that would make Zuckerberg cry.

“Don’t tell Debbie you got Tammy from suburbia. She likes to think she’s the only one who can manipulate her into bad choices.”

It’s an ego boost Nine Ball’s kind enough to let Debbie keep. It’s not the first time Nine Ball’s done something just for Debbie. She did her best to cut out the flirting when Lou told her she was flattered but needed to be with only Debbie post prison. That it was a matter of timing, not the offer itself. Nine Ball might _want_, but she’s not reckless enough to damage someone else’s relationship and source of stability. She doesn’t talk any more about the furniture when Debbie returns, steering the conversation instead to the fertile ground of previous jobs.

Things take a ninety degree right turn when Debbie opens the insulated bag and pulls out cantaloupe sorbet and a single spoon. Nine Ball assumes Debbie is going to start feeding Lou. Possibly vice versa. Instead after Debbie carves a groove of sorbet from the fresh new carton she brings it to Nine Ball’s lips. She can’t help the dubious raise of her eyebrows.

“You want some, don’t you?” Debbie’s question has a double meaning. It’s the kind of flirting Nine Ball hates, vague innuendo. At the same time, it works. Debbie was the only thing stopping Lou, and if Debbie’s now stable enough to handle outsiders with Lou, Nine Ball’s sure the fuck not saying no, even if she comes with a bonus partner.

Nine Ball stands up and bends forward to lick the cantaloupe sorbet off Debbie’s spoon, then circles the table to hover her lips inches from Debbie’s. “Yes.”

It’s Nine Ball’s first threesome. She’s watched some online, who hasn’t, but this is the first time it’s happened flesh to flesh. She has to wonder if this was one of the bad choices Debbie was proud of talking Tammy into. The mental image of Tammy and Debbie and Lou all wrapped up in each other is scorchingly hot.

A billiards bar is possibly not the most comfortable place for a vigorous round of sex, but none of them feel like putting clothes on and driving to someone’s place. Comfort can easily be exchanged for expediency. Lou spreads her legs wide as she sits on one of the leather bench seats. Nine Ball kneels, tongue deep inside Lou’s fluttering hole. And beneath her, in a truly neck and back straining position, is Debbie with her mouth pressed tightly to Nine Ball’s pussy. They’ll all have aches and pains tomorrow, but that’s tomorrow’s problem.

One thing Nine Ball didn’t realise was an added bonus of a threesome is the ‘partner needs to finish first’ problem becomes less important. When Debbie’s nimble tongue drives her towards orgasm and Nine Ball takes her mouth off Lou to warn them that she’s close, too close for Debbie to continue, Debbie goes on with no hesitation. Nine Ball’s eyes slam shut as Debbie laves at her, body twitching uncontrollably as her orgasm builds. She comes exhaling a moan onto Lou’s clit, and slumps to the hardwood floor. The tiny portion of her that can still think feels guilty about not finishing off Lou, but the vast majority is a pile of goo on the floor. Lucky for Lou, Debbie makes quick work of scooting out from under Nine Ball and delving into her girlfriend. Debbie looks beautiful with Lou’s fingers woven into her fine brown hair.

Like the people managers they are, Debbie and Lou make sure Nine Ball is settled before they leave together. It’s kind of them. Kind, the way Lou straightens her clothes. Kind, the way Debbie tucks her locs tidily behind her shoulders. If Tammy and Debbie and Lou _are_ a thing, Nine Ball can see why Tammy keeps going back to them. Nine Ball would answer a booty text from either of them. 

For now, though, she watches them exit together, Lou holding the door open for Debbie. Nine Ball is going to rest for a minute, and then she’s going to wipe the sweat off the bench seat and mop the juices off the floor. Nine ball’s isn’t going to take care of itself, and she worked too hard to not treat this place with respect.


End file.
